


Old

by Gobetti



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gobetti/pseuds/Gobetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the door to Dave’s friend’s apartment closes and leaves behind the image of his older sister with a disgusted scowl and a pitying tone on her voice, Dirk feels...<br/>Old.<br/>So. Fucking. <i>Old</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old

**Author's Note:**

> Because the world needs more Grandpa Harley/Bro fanfics.
> 
> THANK YOU [KHEMI](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Khemi/pseuds/Khemi) FOR BEING MY BETA FOR THIS FIC!!! :D
> 
> Headcannon to Grampa Jake Harley’s body: http://kdubzart.tumblr.com/post/48700577122/

When the door to Dave’s friend’s apartment closes and leaves behind the image of his older sister with a disgusted scowl and a pitying tone on her voice, Dirk feels...

Old.

So. Fucking. _Old._

So here’s what just happened: Dirk, mostly known as Bro “the-guy-that-makes-all-the-panties-drop” Strider, was greeted at the door by a young 21 year old girl, who was apparently studying for some college test before he rang the doorbell with Dave in tow. He was free for the night. She was pretty. He grinned when Dave was out of sight, leaned a bit onto the doorframe, laid down some sick lines. Deepened his voice and did some smooth talking.

She looked him up and down, once, shoulders kind of tense. Her face turned from a polite one to a mildly disgusted one with just a _pinch_ of pity, and she was obviously at loss with words. In the end, she came up with:

“Look, I’m sorry; I know you must use that same technique with other girls and I’m sure it must work, I mean, you’re very attractive!’

‘But... aren’t you just a bit too... old?”

Internet haters? Fuck ‘em.

DJ critiques? Who gives a shit.

Clingy dates after one night stands? He can handle those.

But, in the end, what really breaks him is the final word of a 21 year old nobody as she shrugs, once, and tells him through the gap in the door,

“Sorry.”

before she shuts it and locks the bolts, leaving Dirk Strider completely stunned, standing in the middle of an empty hallway, numb, shocked and... humiliated.

He never thought he’d ever have to admit it, but alas, that is the first sign, and it surely won’t be the last, so get used to it, champ.

Dirk Strider.

_Old._

He doesn’t like how it sounds, doesn’t like how Dave is growing so fast he won’t be in the least surprised if he ends up outgrowing him, doesn’t like to admit that he’s probably old enough to be that girl’s dad in some alternate reality where he knocked someone up when he was 18 or something.

The thought only makes him even more bummed out about everything, and he drags his feet along the corridor floor after at least a minute of standing there, staring at the closed door, sulking a bit.

Okay not a bit, maybe a lot. Sulking a lot and sighing and feeling terrible about...

Well, about _everything_ , really.

The pub close to his apartment suddenly sounds like a great idea, though when he enters, the atmosphere isn’t exactly what he expected.

He doesn’t know why he’s bothering with bullshit. It’s nothing like he _wanted_.

There is a round table right in the center of the pub, where five dudes are laughing and banging their glasses on the hardwood while an older dude with a thick accent tells them all rather loudly about his exploits and adventures or some inane shit like that.

Dirk scowls, huffs, considers turning around and downing that half empty bottle of vodka stashed away in his cabinet (maybe overdose with alcohol, is that even a thing you can do?) when the bartender spots him and greets him cheerfully, inviting him over to an empty stool on the bar. He ends up walking in against his own will and good fucking sense – he tells himself that at least in the bar maybe someone else can call him 911 by the end of the night. Something like that, anyway. It’s a decent consolation and a good enough reason to endure the overwhelmingly merry atmosphere of the stuffy pub.

“Dirky-o, my man! What’s cookin’?” The young man asks as he places a cold bottle of beer before the blond. Dirk sighs – again – and chugs half of his beer down before talking.

“Nothin’s cookin’, Doug.” He mumbles, putting both arms on the bar and hiding his face between them. “Something’s rottin’, tho. Guess what. Just _guess_.”

“...You?” Doug tries, and Dirk growls onto the cold wood beneath his nose.

“Me! Exactly, me! We’re all rottin’ pieces of shit, Doug, and fuck life and its twenty-one year old babes who remind you of that.” He takes another gulp of the beer, lifting his head as the bartender taps his shoulder.

“There, there. We all have these days, man. Can’t let it get to you.”

“I let nothin’ to me, Doug. _Nothin’_. I am Dirk motherfucking Strider, and I—“

A bolt of laughter bursts from the table behind Dirk, and the blond winces, looking straight at the loud group. He is not in the mood for happy people. Doug raises a glass he’s rinsing to the men, laughing along, and when Dirk glares at him through the top of his shades he just shrugs.

“They’re payin’. Y’know how it is. Gotta be nice to the customer, Dirky-o.”

The DJ grumbles, finishes his beer, asks for another. Doug leaves him alone as he nurses his new bottle, takes a gulp at a time, thinks about life. About how time’s passing. About what he’ll do when Dave, who’s already fifteen, moves away to college. What _will_ he do? He can’t see himself settling down, but he can’t see himself still doing the same shit he’s been doing all these years anymore either. He doesn’t want to risk another age related rejection. Can’t risk having another smoking hot lady blowing him off because he’s just not their type anymore. He can’t—

“What’s twisting your noggin’, old chap?”

Barely suppressing a yelp of surprise, Dirk turns to his right to see an older man with a mustache probably double the size of his own nose sitting next to him at the bar. He recognizes the tan skinned senior as the ringleader of the loud group on the round table, and notes the bar is mostly silent now they’ve dispersed.

“What’s it to you?” Dirk asks, voice filled with venom, but Doug tscs and intervenes.

“Something called a _reality check_ , Mister Harley.” He replies, and when Dirk shoots him the finger, the young man laughs, knowing he’ll lose his tip for good reason.

“Reality check? What kind, if I may ask?” The man inquires, cheery as a sunbeam. Dirk feels like punching him. Maybe just a little.

“None of your goddamn business, grandpa.”

The man seems taken aback, green eyes a little wide and surprised.

“How’d you know I’m a grandfather?! You must--”

He groans, loudly, and shoots Harley the hottest glare he can manage from the corner of his eye. “Jesus pooping Christ, don’t you ever shut up, you old geezer?”

With that he goes back to sipping his beer, completely ignoring his company, and much to his own surprise the older man turns to the bar, twisting around what seems to be a scotch glass in his hands.

“Now. That was uncalled for.” He whispers, sounding genuinely hurt and upset. Dirk sighs; he now feels like shit for making the old man feel like shit. He gathers himself up, furrows his brows.

“Look, Mister... Harley, was it?”

“Yes, but feel free to call me Jake, young lad.” The man answers, though not quite as chirpily.

“Jake, right. Look, Jake, I’m sorry. I just had a terrible night and wanted some alone time. Alone as in _on my own_ , y’know?”

“But if you wanted to be on your own...” He turns to Dirk, confusion written on his face. “Why didn’t you take your beer and go back to your place?”

Dirk stops, considers, thinks hard.

He can’t find an answer to the question.

The man sports a small yet caring grin.

“I apologize for insisting, but will you allow me to inquire again as to what has been making you bang your head up against a wall?”

Dirk chuckles and waves his head, mood still sour but maybe now tinted with a little amusement. “You’ll call me stupid.”

“Try me.”

“I’m going old.”

“Me too!” Jake exclaims, making Dirk turn his head to look straight at him. “Oh, it’s bothersome, reminds us of our clocks ticking down. But you know what? We just make the most of it! Most people sulk when they come to this conclusion, much like you, lad, and give up. I did that too, once, for a grand total of three days! You know what I did afterwards?” He downs the rest of the scotch, bangs the glass on the bar and shakes his head from the heavy drink. When he opens his eyes he seems ten years younger. “I kept on doing what I love, and kept on exercising and eating well and meeting new people and living my life! Why, I feel now pretty much as I did when I was your age, and that to me is really quite gratifying.”

Dirk stops, stares at the man from behind his shades, analyzes the wrinkles on his face and the grey hair on his mustache and eyebrow and fringe.

He wouldn’t give the dude more than fifty-five or something.

“How old are you.” He says, more a statement than a question, and Jake grins.

“Sixty-four and counting!”

And that’s what he needed.

A _role-model_.

“Dirk Strider. Thirty-nine. Are you retired?”

“Nope!” The handshake they share is rough, hard, enthusiastic. Exactly what Dirk expected from a man with calloused hands and perfectly clipped down nails. “And hopefully never will be, my good man!”

It’s been forty-three minutes since the unfortunate incident at the doorstep of one of Dave’s friends, but Dirk feels a hell of a lot better already.

He feels happy, actually, and he owes the old man for that.

He’s never been so thankful for the small pub on the corner of his building before.

They talk all night long, and somehow chatting with a dude so old he was already finishing college when Dirk was born doesn’t feel weird or awkward or uncomfortable.

Dirk learns that Jake’s single – a free bird, he laughs, but then adds sternly that it’s only because he couldn’t stick around with only one person with his constant traveling lifestyle. He always avoided committing to anyone, and sometimes it was great, but other times it was the worst. Jake lives off writing books about his exploits, and giving interviews and special appearances in TV shows, but that lifestyle is slowing down a little now that he has responsibilities as a grandfather, and consequently he hasn’t published a book in quite a while.

“What’s the story behind your granddaughter? If you’re not married or anything, and never were?” Dirk asks, raising a single brow over his kamina shades. Jake smiles happily and reaches for his wallet without a single word. Dirk takes it when it’s offered to him, and inspects the small picture inside, where a black haired girl holds a rifle in one hand and pets a large, white dog with the other. She’s like a small, long haired female version of the man next to Dirk, albeit in large, round glasses, and it’s fascinating. He feels almost like he knows her from somewhere, but he just can’t...

“She’s fifteen now.” Jake says, sounding overzealous and proud. “A real trooper. She came into my life the same day I found out I had a daughter, and that she, well... she had passed away.”

“Whoa. Tough shit.” Dirk whispers, whistling dramatically and closing the wallet. “Sorry ‘bout that. What happened?”

“Thank you for your condolences. I, well... I got involved with this beautiful gal in England when I was twenty-two. She was just the best, even made me extend my visit to the country by a couple of weeks. In the end, though, I left, and never saw her again, like pretty much everyone in my life.” He sighs, looks down at the wallet in his hand for a few long seconds before pocketing it again. “Twenty-five years later I’m doing research in Greece when a thought hits me out of nowhere: I have to go to England. And that’s what I did. One week later I have a knock on my hotel room door, and a woman is asking me my name and credentials. Apparently I left the woman pregnant, but she never told me about it, even though I know she had the means to contact me. My daughter was born that same year still, grew up, got married and ended up having a little girl of her own. Jade.’

‘Three days after I arrived in England the three of them got into a terrible accident, I think a truck crashed into their car or they were inside a bus that tumbled down the road, I’m not sure what happened... but the man she was married to was an orphan, and her mother had died a couple years back. My name was on my daughter’s birth certificate, thank heavens her mother had the sense to put it there, and they managed to find me through it. A DNA test later to satisfy child services and it was proven that Jade was my grandchild, and I... I couldn’t just leave her to the system, you know?”

Dirk nods. He knows the feel exactly, because it’s the same way he felt when he found Dave by his doorstep when he was twenty-four.

“I was and still am her only family, so I took her in. I had just founded my tech corporation, so I moved with her to a house I had on a lone island in the Pacific Ocean, and we lived there her entire childhood. She’s my pride and joy.”

“You did good, ol’ man.” Dirk says, sipping his beer and giving the faintest of smiles. Jake smiles back and drinks his own scotch. “I have a boy of my own. Fifteen years old, too. His mom left him at my door and I never saw her again. Not even sure what her name was, either, which I guess makes it kinda worse.”

“Dagnabbit.” Jake mutters, looking off into the pub wall, and finishes his drink. “Sorry ‘bout that, mate. But hey, at least the two of you are happy and healthy, right?”

“Damn straight.” He tips his bottle, empties it. “I gotta get going, though. It was nice meeting you, man.”

Jake hesitates, like he wasn’t expecting the goodbye so soon and so suddenly, but smiles again and shakes Dirk’s hand as hard as he can. “Right back at ya, chap.”

Dirk knows the old man tried really hard not to let it show, but it’s obvious that he’s filthy rich, what with the fat tip he leaves Doug along with his bill, and the looks of the SUV parked outside the bar that he heads towards when they leave side by side. Dirk nods once again in a silent goodbye, watches as Jake salutes him with two fingers, and stops in his tracks just as Jake closes the driver’s door of his machine. Surely he’s not planning on—

The engine roars, and Dirk bolts back to the side of the car, places an open hand on the driver’s door to force Jake to stop trying to maneuver the car. He stares at the man outside, rolls the window down and smiles, his stache curling up along with his lips.

“My good man, I thought you’d left! Have you forgotten something?”

“No, but apparently _you_ did! Didn’t you have, like, three glasses of scotch back there?”

“Well… yes? Maybe more? But worry not! I’m well enough to be able to drive to my hotel room!”

“Downtown. At this time of the night.” Dirk says with a serious and unamused expression. Jake’s smile falters a little, and he’s about to reply when Dirk jerks his head back and steps away from the car, crossing his arms. “Out.”

“P-pardon me?”

“Out and about. I’m not about to let a tipsy old man drive back home, not on my watch.”

A huff and a few half hearted complaints muttered under his breath later, Jake turns the engine off and steps out of the car. “But what about my lady?” He asks, looking at his vehicle and sliding his hand affectionately over the door as the window rolls up. “And where am I supposed to stay for the night, as a matter of fact?”

“We’ll pick her up in the morning, scout’s honour. And you can stay at my place.”

“Hmm. Alright, I suppose...” Jake replies, following Dirk as he walks away. He stuffs both hands inside his pockets and sulks for a whole block, before perking up and picking up pace to walk beside Dirk. “Funny, why do I have the nagging feeling you’ve never been a scout a day in your life?”

Dirk grins, shrugs, and flings an arm around Jake’s shoulders. “No idea, man. No freakin’ idea.”

\---

 

In only a few minutes the door to Dirk’s apartment is open, and Dirk throws his keys atop the kitchen counter before turning on the lights. “Mi casa es su casa. You can have Dave’s bed if you don’t mind dead animals in jars staring at you all night.”

“Actually, uh, I think I _do_ mind?” Jake says hesitantly. “Dead animals?”

“Dave collects them. He’s kind of weird, just like me. My pride and joy.” A hand to his chest and an upturn of his eyebrows, and Jake snorts. “But seriously, I think you’ll have to handle the floor, then. I’d offer you my bed, but I don’t own one. All I have is my futon.”

“You don’t have a bedroom of your own?” Jake asks, approaching the flatscreen and squeezing a puppet nose, watching it curiously as it squeaks beneath his hand.

“Nope.” Dirk replies, pulling the cushions forward and throwing a blanket over the futon. “I kinda gave that up when Dave came around. Kids need their privacy, y’know?”

“Yes, but...”

Dirk looks back, and watches as Jake stares at his TV and the various videogames underneath it, and then as he eyes each of the prized swords that adorn the walls.

“Forgive my lack of finesse, but aren’t you, uh...”

“Loaded?”

“Well, that was not the word I was looking for, but sure, let’s stick with that.”

“A little, yeah.” Dirk walks towards Jake, shrugs and takes the smuppet the man was analyzing. He turns it in his hand and smiles a little, offers the plushie back to the man, who takes it with renewed curiosity. “I sew those and sell them on the internet. Sometimes I make videos and people pay to watch them. I manage to get by pretty well ‘cause of them and my occasional DJ gig.”

“Why don’t you move out of your minuscule apartment then?” Jake asks, and Dirk looks around, a faint smile on his lips.

“Thought about it. Been living here for 19 years, y’know.” He eyes the new coffee table, and gestures to it, requesting Jake’s help. The man immediately places the smuppet onto the surface and holds one end, and both lift the table and leave it behind the futon. “Asked Dave about moving a couple years ago. He said he didn’t want to. I didn’t either, so we just came to a mutual agreement that, y’know. Even if it’s shitty, this is home.”

A nice silence surrounds the two of them as they both analyze the living room, all of its mess and details. Jake knows the feeling; he gained a home when he began living with Jade, and he knows how hard it has been since to go on adventures, to leave for a long period of time, and how wonderful it always feels to go back to its familiarity.

“Anyway.” Dirk announces, waking from his fond daze. “Bathroom’s the door to your right, down that corridor. Need to wash up lemme know and I’ll get you a towel. Alright?”

The stache curls up again, and Jake places a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder, earning him a tiny “oof” that he brings him a little amusement.

They are good people, and he’s happy the boy - no, young man - stopped him before he could do something he’d regret.

“Sounds dandy to me.”

 

\---

Twenty minutes later Dirk has already fixed Dave’s mattress on the living room floor, next to the futon, and placed some clean blankets and sheets atop of it, along with a spare pillow. He’s halfway gone to dreamland, shades long since discarded on the coffee table, when he hears the bathroom door open, and Jake’s deep voice rumble through the apartment.

“Where should I leave the damp towel, my friend?”

“Just... just hang it on the shower door.” Dirk replies, sluggishly, and a few moments later Jake crawls into his makeshift bed, smiling apologetically at Dirk.

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were already sleeping.”

“Mnn, not... yet.” Dirk mumbles, now completely awake.

How can he sleep when the man next to him, now devoid of glasses, body damp and most probably nicely warm, is lying on his back, stretching, showing all of the muscles in his wide abdomen, flexing his pectorals, the fine black hair in his body dusted with silver. Jake sighs, oblivious to the staring happening not two feet away, to the way Dirk is squirming as he forces himself to look away from the obvious bulge in the older man’s underwear. He stirs, turns on his stomach, and fucking hell that’s _totally_ worse, the way those sweet buns of steel jutt out beneath the cotton, his shoulder blades marked with scars and faded freckles, his muscular calves more attractive than they should be.

Dirk wonders if it’s even _legal_ for a man his age to be this fucking attractive. God _damn_.

“Thank you again.” Jake murmurs, turning his head between his arms to the younger man beside him, making him look up rapidly as to not give his companion the wrong impression. “For not letting me drive, I mean. Even though I feel much better now.”

“Uh... yeah, yes. No problem. Least I could do, really.” He murmurs, hiding his face a bit further into the pillow’s casing. Jake chuckles, turning to his side and smiling brightly.

“You’re blushing, my lad.” He says, making Dirk break his poker face for a fraction of a second that he instantly regrets, with a slight widening of his eyes and a sudden stiffness to his shoulders, before he whispers, “No I’m not”, almost like a child, which only serves to amuse the adventurer even further.

“Yes, you are! Don’t lie to me, I have a grandchild and I can read people with more ease than you’d think possible.”

“How can you even see I’m- _if_ I’m blushing, dude, the lights are all out.”

“The window’s open, if you hadn’t noticed.” Jake points out, and in response Dirk flash-steps towards the curtains, pulls them together to engulf the room in the darkness of the night, the moonlight behind the fabric still allowing them to see each other.

“There. Problem solved. Now sleep.”

“Not a chance.” Jake chimes, sounding more awake than Dirk wishes, and the blond huffs, turning belly down on the futon the moment he returns to it and groaning into his pillow. “You’re telling me what you’ve seen that’s bothered you. Spit it out.”

“Nope.”

“Tell me!”

“No way.”

“You’re no fun!”

“And you’re still drunk.”

“Perhaps a little?” He chuckles, voice deep and delicious, the sound making the blond inwardly melt with arousal. “I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing, though.”

“Annoying me?” Dirk asks, voice muffled by the fabric, and before Jake answers something smooth slides up Dirk’s back, all the way to his nape, tickling the fluff of hair there and sending shocked frissons darting down his spine. He jumps, moans, and when he looks to the side he sees Jake kneeling next to the futon, index finger now slowly sliding down, retracing the path it just followed.

“I figure ‘teasing’ would be a better description, but whatever suits your fancy.” He says, voice lower than before, and Dirk stares, practically gawking at the man, now unashamedly taking in the details of his exposed tanned skin, defined pectorals and muscled biceps. He bites his lip when he eyes the package between the older man’s thighs, and looks up at the jewels that are now eyeing him with something that resembles hunger.

“...Dave’s mattress’ probably a little saggy.” He whispers, eyeing Jake back with half-lidded eyes that he hopes express his consent. “You wanna...?”

Before he can finish his sentence Jake lunges forward, lips smashing forcefully against his own, hands grabbing at his blond locks with despair and pure want. Dirk moans, kisses back, fixes himself so he’d at an angle good enough to wrap his arms around the thick, warm torso slowly invading his personal space, and in a silent suggestion, a slight pull towards him, Jake is rising to his feet, crawling atop the younger man, the futon sinking and creaking under his massive weight and body mass, making Dirk shudder yet again and reach up to claw at the man’s back.

The kisses are hot, desperate even, clumsy and wet and _perfect_. Dirk wonders how long Jake’s been rejected as well, how many women and men alike have brushed him off after spotting the slight wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the deep marks countless years of broad smiles and amused grins have left on his cheeks, the grey strands of hair on his fringe, legs and chest. He thinks of Dave’s friend’s sister as he slides his palms down, grabbing roughly at Jake’s arms, feeling the stiff muscles beneath his skin, and he realizes that he can’t even remember her face.

Jake pulls back, instantly going for his neck, biting and sucking, most certainly leaving his mark behind. Dirk tilts his head back, allowing him access to the sensitive skin, crying out whenever a nerve is hit, whenever his flesh is sucked on in a certain way, and he arches his body from the futon, touching his torso to Jake’s, aligning themselves as his toes curl in the sheets, gasping in pleasure when a thigh nudged towards his crotch rubs against his forming erection.

“Lad...” Comes a breathy murmur from Dirk’s collarbone, and he looks down at the same time Jake looks up. They’re both breathless, hair disheveled, and Jake stops his ministrations, holding himself atop the young blond with a forehead against his broad, freckled shoulder. “Forgive me, I... I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, you invited me to you humble abode, and I... I’m not... I mean, if you don’t want me to--”

“Dude. Dude, shit, don’t-- why’d you stop, oh my god, stop apologizing, what happened?”

“No, I just... you wished to help me... and I, I feel like...”

“Oh god, please don’t tell me... shit, look, it’s not like I invited you up here with those intentions...”

“Oh no, I never thought...!”

“I just really didn’t want you to drive? Oh jesus fuck, sorry--”

“Please, no, I apologize!”

“No, fuck, sorry, that’s...!”

They stop, look at each other, and instantly relax, laughing at how they’re talking together and apologizing for the same things. Jake slumps down next to the blond and snuggles up with him, tangling his massive, hairy legs with Dirk’s nearly hairless ones. They open their eyes, still chuckling, and touch noses, suddenly at ease.

“Perhaps you are blushing again?” Jake inquires, and Dirk laughs, once.

“Well, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes, I bet you are.”

“No blushing here, no siree.”

“As if you wouldn’t blush after making a fool out of yourself with a stiffy between your legs.”

“Oh my god I can’t believe you said ‘ _stiffy_ ’”. Dirk laughs, making the adventurer giggle as well, both bodies approaching, lips nearly touching.

“Perhaps I did.”

“I _know_ you just did.”

“Well what will you do about that?”

The answer was not to be conveyed in words; to Dirk the answer was ‘less talking, more doing’’, or something like that anyway, because he’s leaning forward, pressing slightly damp lips against rough and experienced ones, shuffling forward and hugging the older man close to him, feeling that all that needed to be said has been said and all that needs to be done is yet to be done. He hums, moans, deepens the too tender kiss, and fits his hips over one broad thigh, gasping when Jake replies in earnest, rubbing up against him, the friction driving Dirk insane and his sweatpants slowly becoming more and more constricting.

The older man bites Dirk’s bottom lip, makes him moan, his erection stiffening even more, and Dirk doesn’t resist, reaching down to palm through the cotton boxers and feel the flesh of his girthy erection. Jake moans deeply, the low sound reverberating throughout the living room, and Dirk hopes his neighbors are out because _damn_ if he’ll stop the handsome man before him from being as loud as humanly possible.

“Do... do you need...?” Dirk whispers against Jake’s lips in between kisses, nibbles and breathy moans, and Jake opens his eyes to find Dirk’s golden pupils, feeling the lithe and nimble fingers fondling his member between their two warm bodies.

“No.” Jake whispers, sliding both broad palms under Dirk’s sweat pants, making the blonde sigh at the sensation of warm flesh squeezing his muscles, rubbing and stroking to will the coldness of his globes away. “No, I... I might need a minute longer, perhaps, but... _ah_...”

Dirk kisses him, deciding he’s had too much listening for one night and not nearly enough groping and fondling. Both know what they’re trying to convey, and pale fingers grab harder, pump more insistently, as if to show that he really doesn’t mind the age gap, honestly doesn’t mind the extra effort he’ll have to put into his ministrations. _Prefers_ it, even. Shows that he’s good at what he’s doing, truly proves that his partner is enjoying himself. Makes him glad and proud of himself.

The rougher the movements, the more insistent Jake’s palms become, sliding down to Dirk’s thighs and pushing the loose elastic down to his hips. Dirk rises on his knees, now the one on top, and Jake takes the hint, removing the offending clothing, pulling Dirk’s sweatpants and his own briefs off. Dirk slides down, kissing his way through hard muscles and thin body hair, smelling the familiar scent of his own body wash and feeling like he would ravish all of this man in one go if only he could.

He reaches the hipbone, bites down, gets a jolt of surprise and a loud gasp in return, his hand never ceasing his rhythmic movements. He approaches Jake’s now half-hard dick, sliding the foreskin up and down with practiced ease and a slight flick of the wrist that he knows will make the man beneath him squirm with pleasure in no time. He eyes the gorgeous member, its glistening, smooth head, the thick body filling up with blood and the protruding veins that are slowly showing, and he can’t help but lick his lips.

“Clean?” He asks, almost too nervous to bring himself to actually say it, and when Jake nods he doesn’t even care to think twice, decides he’ll be reckless once in his life for a change, settles for worrying about it the morning after. Decides he trusts the man, for some odd reason that he can’t quite put a finger on.

He dips down, hungrily sucking on the head before licking around, lightly biting on the thick flesh, suckling at every inch he can reach and tonguing the tip as if it’s the most delicious delicacy he’s had in a long while. It doesn’t take five minutes for Jake to grow to his full length, to squirm and grab the sheets lining the futon, bend his legs and relax, enjoying the touch he hadn’t felt in so many years. Jake gasps, his chest and stomach rising and falling with every intake of breath, and suddenly it’s hard to think when such a gorgeous gentleman is licking him, sucking him and looking like he’s having the time of his life.

Before Jake can climax, Dirk gives one final kiss to the member, reaches under the couch and grabs one condom and one pack of lube. Jake stares, wonders briefly who’s going to wear what, but Dirk rips open the plastic with his teeth, rapidly and almost desperately rolling the rubber down onto the thick girth before him.

“Holy mackarel...” Jake breathes when the blond rises to his knees, erection bobbing freely before his eyes as he rips the lube open as well. He pours half of it onto his fingers and reaches back, arching his spine and showing off his impressive six pack and jutting hipbone, and Jake takes this moment to admire the view before him, taking notice of the blond hair over his chest and down his navel, the pale scars adorning his torso, the occasional dust of freckles that tones his pale skin and collects around his defined collarbone. He wonders how any fine young lady would ever in their right mind dismiss such a glorious view, refuse the caress of the gentle yet firms hands of the man before him, who seems much, much younger than he claims to be. A moan and a drawn out sigh bring his attention back to the blonde’s face, watching as he squirms and rocks on his hand, apparently stretching himself. “Oh, goodness gracious, sweet lord, jesus...”

“Save your prayers, old man.” Dirk practically growls, a sound that makes Jake shiver and his cock throb, and Dirk drizzles the remainders of the lube over the waiting erection beneath him, throwing the now empty packet somewhere in the living room. “I’ll give you something to _really_ pray for.”

Dirty talk wasn’t usually in Jake’s book, but holy shit if it didn’t do the trick almost instantly, especially when those gorgeous hips were descending, aligning Jake’s tip to his now loose opening, sinking inch by inch by agonizing inch as the body and the muscles over him get used to his width and length. Jake places both hands above Dirk’s hips, squeezing, wonders if later on he’ll lose control enough to bruise him, but decides not to care, not to overthink things.

Already in to the root, Dirk stops, breathes deeply, counts to ten and then some. Jake breathes in unison, sitting up so he can hold the man close, tangling a hand in his hair and pulling him for a breathless kiss, eagerly returned by the blonde, and not a second later he’s moving, sliding up, slamming down, pulling gasps and exclamations from both of them, increasing his pace, the hands now cupping his behind soon helping by guiding the smaller body above him, increasing the speed of the fuck with practiced ease, remembering the way he used to guide lovers in the past and how they loved his firm grip and hot touches just so. Dirk doesn’t seem to be complaining either, grabbing onto Jake’s shoulders as he screams like he hasn’t in years, mumbling nonsenses like

“Yes-”

“Right there-”

“Again-”

“Oh, _please-_ ”

words that sound like sweet music to the elder adventurer’s ears, a chanting and a plea born from the young DJ’s pleasure, and with a few pumps given with shaky hands he’s coming undone, biting down into a tanned shoulder to muffle his cries as he climaxes, the older man not far behind as he keeps thrusting into the overly sensitive lad, doubling his ministrations as he notices how pliant the man is beneath his touch.

He comes after a minute of rough plunging into the open hole atop him, after a minute of double cries of pleasure, of near-sobs and hard, long scratches to his back. They both stop, Dirk immediately slumping against Jake, and Jake falling back, plopping down over the abused futon. The smell of sweat and sex is evident, but neither of them care, too happy and satisfied to think anything of it.

Dirk rolls to the side, dislodging himself from the softening member of his companion, and reaches down, taking the clean sheet that Jake was supposed to use and wiping the lube off his ass and the cum off his chest with it. He offers the other end to Jake once he pulls the condom off, tying the rubber up in a knot as he cleans himself up, and Dirk finds himself not too surprised to still be mesmerized by the thick member now resting over Jake’s stomach. He throws the now dirty sheets and the used condom aside before cuddling closer, breaths slowing and heartbeats returning to their normal rhythm.

They share one more kiss and surrender to the aching muscles and the soreness of their bodies, gladly welcoming sleep.

\---

And in the morning, if Dave and Jade almost fall on their asses once they realize their guardians were naked cuddling, the weak rays of sunlight behind the curtains not enough to rouse them from their sweet slumber (“so _this_ is where grandpa meant he was staying for the night! huh!!!!” “harley oh my god shut up before you wake them jesus flipping christ”), they don’t tell, deciding instead to slink away and have breakfast down the road, waiting for them to talk and gather their things, exchange phone numbers and promises to see each other again, both kids later pretending they never saw anything...

Then well, who are they to complain?

**Author's Note:**

> Jade came to visit Dave in Houston, and they planned on seeing each other in the next morning, thus why Dave walked into his apartment with Jade in tow.
> 
> Jake isn't publishing any more books because he's too busy with Jade. He probably still travels around, but not nearly as much as he used to...
> 
> Two years from now tho he'll publish another book, unlike all the other books he's published so far, where he talks about family and adventures and home and love...  
> and that'll be the last work he'll ever publish before officially retiring.
> 
> GrandpaBro feels :')


End file.
